Mount and Blade-

The Warband of Wolves

By Indogma

Inspired by the Mount and Blade Series, primarily the Mount and Blade: Warband.

-Prologue to a Wolf-

Part One

Roland was wondering though the sea of trees in his college's local arboretum. A trip that many times before had helped him clear his mind of distractions, but this time it was failing him. With finals looming ahead and a final report on his major due within a few days he thought about his future. Unsure as to what he was doing to do after his final year of college he pressed on hoping that the forest would grant him insight.

As he wandered along, he stopped thinking about his grades and future for a moment to turn his attention to the flora. None of it looked familiar or native to this area. Recalling the other times he had taken the trip, he concluded that it was an environment experiment that the college might have been up to. He brushed the moment of fright aside to return to the path; although after about a haft hour Roland could not find the path. Assuming he had strayed far off the path, he then continued on his current direction, eventually going to the edge of the forest and circling around to the college. He knew a network of roads surrounded the arboretum, in case if a student ever got lost they could just take a road back up to campus.

Seeing that the forest started to thin, Roland's pace began to quicken. Soon he would be on the road back up to his dorm, and troubled yet again by the pressures of life. As he cleared the forest he let his eyes adjust to the bright light of the sun beating down on the cleared area. Once his vision was restored, Roland was shocked.

Outside on the forest the road had disappeared, and in its place was a grassy plain. Roland scratched his head in confusion, "Where the hell am I?" He asked himself. Peering off into the distance he saw a group of buildings, not recognizing their structure he then began to walk towards the cluster of buildings, hoping to find an idea as to where he was.

As he approached the group of build his heart began to sink and his mind became full of terror. He noticed that they resembled medieval era buildings, and the people's clothing that seemed to be from the same time. Not wanting to go into the village, he decided to ask the closest person he could see. A young girl no more than fifteen, was sitting on a bench outside of the farthest house from the rest tying a bundle of wheat together.

"Excuse me, can you tell me where the local college's campus is?" Asked Roland. The girl then noticed the young man for the first time. She looked at him with fear, and looked at his clothes like they were snakes. Dropping her bundling she ran inside the building. Not knowing what just happened, Roland sighed and decided to press on to find some answers—even if it meant going inside the village.

The village itself was home to about fifty, maybe less, Roland concluded. Going to the center of town, the looks of fear continued. Every person Roland meet was avoiding him like the plague. The women were herding the children inside their houses, and the men stared at Roland like a criminal. Getting out of the village and away from the aura of distrust, he walked out to a small shack outside of the village. Leaning against the shack he tried to make sense of the events that just happened.

Then a loud musical sound came from his pocket. It was his alarm from the day before that he forgot to turn off. Slowly pulling out his phone he shut off the alarm. It was then he noticed that his phone had no service, no chance of calling for help.

After waiting a while, Roland decided to try again, despite the feeling of distrust. Walking again into the village, he stopped again in the middle of the village. This time it was deserted, not a soul in sight. Then a man walked up to Roland, "Are you lost son?" Roland looked at the man, finally some help. "Yes, can you help me?"

The men smiled, "Sure, follow me. We can talk about it in my house." The man directed the young man into a building that had its door open. Roland entered the building first, and expected the man to follow him in. Instead the door slammed behind him. Realizing he had been duped, he tried to break the door open, but when he tried to force the door open he found the door immovable. After several attempts to open the door, he gave up trying to open the door, and looked for another escape route.

Turning around he looked into the building for the first time. It was a storehouse for the village full of: dried meat, vegetables, spare mill parts and tools, as well as wool, hay and fodder for the animals. He looked around the building, and tried to force his way through a wooden wall that seemed to be weak. But he lacked the strength to push an opening. Realizing the storehouse was inescapable in his present state, Roland sat on a sack of grain, waiting for any sign of his captors. To kill time, he took out his phone and fooled around with it.

Hours passed, according to Roland's phone. And not a sound had risen from outside since he was locked in the storeroom. Whatever they were plotting they were being quiet about it.

Then he heard shuffling outside the door, like someone was moving a heavy object away from the door. Then the door shot open and two built men grabbed Roland, picked him up, and dragged him forcefully outside to a mob of what seemed to be the entire village and their parents. If there was a stereotypical mob, this village painted the picture perfectly, Roland thought, touches, pitchforks, and their eyes full of hate. Roland then felt his life was now in danger, remembering every movie he saw with a mob like this, it usually meant certain death for all of it's victims. Afraid for his life Roland struggled against the two men holding him tightly. But they had years of muscles built into their bodies. Roland was not going to be going anywhere.

Dragging him out into the street, the man who had tricked Roland into the storehouse was at the center of the mob. Having Roland stand in front of the man, he "interrogated" him in front of the crowd. "Who are you and where are you from?"

"My name is Roland," he answered, trying not to show fear, "I'm from Fargo."

His answers seemed to only to entice the crowd further. "And pray tell where that is?"

"In Minnesota," he said almost making it sound like he was taking to a child, "Right along the North Dakota line?" Roland added.

"Burn 'im already!" Came a shout from the crowd, and the crowd cheered in agreement. But the man raised his hand to quiet them down and continued the interrogation. "You stand accused of being a witch and committing acts of vile witchcraft within our humble village." Then he turned and looked Roland in the eye, "what's say you to these charges?"

"I am not a witch!" Roland was now defending himself, and his life.

"Liar!" Came another voice from the crowd. Soon the source of the accusation came forward, a dirty man who appeared to live in his own filth stepped forward and began to accuse Roland. "This man is a witch, I have seen it with my own two eyes. When he leaned over by the old shack he took out a magical brick that made strange noises!" The crowd began to mummer amongst themselves. Reaching into Roland's pocket the man presented the "brick"—Roland's phone. The dirty man then pressed one button, and the phone began to vibrate, causing the man to drop it on the ground like it was on fire.

"Witchcraft!" came the shouts from the crowd. Clearly this was enough proof to convince the village that he was a witch. The next question was: what were they going to do to Roland. The answer was grim but not unexpected, "Burn him!" Roland was now in trouble.

"Wait!" Came a shout over the cries of the villagers, and a man in a suit of armor riding a horse passed through the crowd. He had long dark hair that was pushed behind his head with a light black beard covering his face. Stopping in front of Roland he said getting off his horse, "You say this man is a witch? What proof do you have of this?" The leader then picked up the phone and handed it to the armored man. "Is this yours?' he asked after observing the phone. Roland no longer cared, all he summed up was he was screwed either way, "So what if it is?"

The armored man stepped forward and looked at Roland's clothes. He was wearing a leather jacket, a t-shirt underneath, jeans, and a pair of brown casual shoes. "The evidence is damnable, all right." He said adding, "He is a witch." Any hope of Roland being freed from this nightmare disappeared from his mind.

The crowd roared hearing this but where stopped by the armored man raising his hand, "However, this kind of witch cannot be killed by merely burning him or stoning him. No, do that and he will merely come back and possess one of your people's bodies!" The villagers turned to each other in fear, "What must we do?"

"Give him to me," the man suggested. "I know how to properly deal with his kind, without the threat of harm coming on your village. Give him to me and I will deal with him in my home in Suno!"

The villagers looked at each other, they regarded the man's proposition. He seemed to know what he was talking about. To Roland however he was confused by the armored man's sudden interest in him. Not knowing whether or not it was a good or bad thing. Then the village came back with their answer, and handed Roland over to the armored man.

Requesting he be bound, a rope was tied around Roland's wrists preventing him from escaping. He also requested that all possessions be given to him so he could "destroy them before the witchcraft spreads." They also tied a rope around his neck and gave the end to the man who was now on his horse. As quickly as he arrived in the town, he left with Roland in tow behind him. Looking back at the village, Roland was now lost in reflecting the day's events. A tug on the rope around his neck made him stop that however, and remind him of the current dilemma. Now Roland's fate was at the hands of this mysterious rider.

Continued in Prologue Part 2.